John Clare

The Secret

I loved thee, though I told thee not,Right earlily and long,Thou wert my joy in every spot,My theme in every song.And when I saw a stranger faceWhere beauty held the claim,I gave it like a secret graceThe being of thy name.And all the charms of face or voiceWhich I in others seeAre but the recollected choiceOf what I felt for thee.